


Destroyer of Angels

by Dark_Frejya



Category: Mission Impossible AU - Fandom, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Arranged Marriage, Bodily Fluids, Breeding, Creampie, Deflowering, Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, Mild Blood, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26893354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Frejya/pseuds/Dark_Frejya
Summary: The cruel and heartless Duke August Walker takes what he wants and what he desires above all is a young maiden.
Relationships: August Walker/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68





	Destroyer of Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own August Walker or the Mission Impossible Franchise  
> Based on a tumblr prompt to write an August Walker period piece AU where he is in an arranged marriage.

Beautiful nymphs gyrated in the amber glow of a thousand whispering candles, surrounded by intoxicated knights who choired drunken ballads. Merriment and glory soared to the arched ceiling of the great hall. Never before was there so much liveliness in the duke’s castle as tonight’s celebration. 

Even the onyx bricks on the walls shone like the starry sky. 

With a chalice held to his lips, the newly-wedded man tasted the sweet wine of victors and observed his wedding feast from the high table. Pride smeared his sinister face while his bride sat beside him. 

Drowning in contempt, the young maiden wished to scratch her eyes till they became nothing but empty pools of blood. 

Had the corset of the wedding gown not crushed her lungs, she would have torn the crown of white flowers from her head and screamed. But who was to save her? The knights in **his** service? The maidens who would have given anything to be in her place? They could have him. The young Lady Marion would have strongly preferred to be married to a servant rather than to a fiend who took pleasure in creative forms of torture. 

But choice was stolen from her. 

Her father, the stubborn old Duke of Northfolk, should not have refused Duke August’s generous proposal, adding the insult of promising her to another. What August couldn’t achieve with charm, he took with blood and broken bones. After storming the castle, he personally came to collect the spoils of war, snatching the screaming maiden on his black stallion while his men cheered. 

_‘For the conqueror and his bounty.’_

The married couple’s table was plentiful of heavenly delights, the scent of succulent meat permeating through her nose and famished throat. Yet she immediately associated the served pleasures with the smell of burning human flesh. The sights and screams of suffering men and butchered women lingered on her mind. Her appetite diminished in her silent protest. She didn’t want to eat anyway.

August tore the roasted limb of a duck and took a mouthful bite. He hummed with joy while chewing, his glacier stare falling onto his beautiful prize as the flavour filled his mouth. Hatred poisoned her delicate face, yet it did nothing to hinder her beauty. 

If anything, it only made the taste in his mouth mingle with desire. 

“I have wanted you for many moons Lady Marion, ever since I saw you at the king’s ball. You wore lavender and creme silks and smiled so sweetly. I knew then that you would be mine,” he declared, sucking grease off his fingers and holding out the decorated goblet as a servant walked over to pour more wine.

“Every night you visited me in my dreams, your naked body yielding to mine.”

The melody of his voice was low and pleasant, yet those words stemmed tears of anger and disdain which threatened to push through as he forced unwanted obscenities into her mind. 

August stared at her cleavage, observing her figure as if she was nothing more than another dish. His slippery, snake-like tongue flaked over his lips. The hunger that rattled through him could no longer be satisfied with food. 

What he needed was raw, warm, and wet.

Tidal shivers ran back and forth through her skin, while the music in the hall throbbed in her ears like drums of war. For a second, she forgot herself and dared to meet the malevolent leer on his face. The moment their eyes met, the room suddenly turned cold.

Fairy tales often said that a monstrous face bodes for an ugly soul; but even in her greatest despise for August, she couldn’t deny he was the most beautiful-looking demon she saw. Purest blue lit his eyes and his masculine features could have been crafted by an artist. On his square jaw, a seasoning of dark stubble grew and he groomed a thick moustache over mildly succulent lips.

 _‘Wretched beast,’_ she cursed him inside her heart. 

August’s lips curled into a twisted smirk, causing her to avert her eyes and focus on the sharp knife that perched on the table. 

_‘Could he hear my thoughts, too?’_

“Have you heard many tales of me?” He asked, noticing a muscle twitch in her clenched jaw. 

Marion held her breath as another wave of venom surged through her body. Her anger was now visibly apparent, burning hot in her eyes. 

August flashed his teeth with amusement at the sight of her struggle. His little gem, so resistant, so strong-willed. Fine, delicate lines caressed her face, but she was a child of fire. She would wage a war against him and it only ignited his eagerness.

Large dimples streaked his face as he leaned closer and took a whiff of her luscious skin. The scent of virginity assaulted his nostrils, tender like an early spring blossom. Pity he would take it away tonight. 

“I once flayed a man alive, for disobeying me.” 

“You’re hideous.” Marion snapped. Her frown reflected on the silver of the knife. 

August smirked. _This_ was nothing. He’s been called far worse things in the last three decades. 

Lips pungent with red wine, he inched closer. The rounded tip of his nose pushed her hair aside, and his hand moved to pluck a flower from the wreath that circled her head. Crude fingers squashed the little petal before letting it fall onto her wedding dress. Casually, a possessive hand followed, shifting the hem of her dress to lock around the silks. 

“I can’t wait to feel you from inside,” he whispered.

Struck with fright, her thigh jerked involuntarily. But the duke pushed the weight of his hand onto her leg and continued to lift her skirts, exposing her knee.

“Now don’t be so harsh, my little duchess. Many women would have taken your place tonight,” the low hum of his voice blew against the shell of her ear.

“Let them take it then.” Marion spat, but a petrified hiss broke her speech. Suffocating in her own corset, her breasts pressed into the hard bodice in dire demand for air as August’s thumb slipped into uncharted territory.

“Careful now, darling,” he warned darkly and slithered his tongue to lick her neck while his thumb circled the hidden pearl at the apex of her groin. A gasp escaped from her quivering lips, and her eyes screwed shut, lashes beaded with tears. 

“Your wedding night can either be a dream or a nightmare. Each way, you **will** fulfil your duties as my wife.”

A loud thud ripped through the hall, followed by a storm of humiliating waves of laughter. It was a broad, drunken knight who slipped on a puddle of ale and hit his backside on the ground. For a moment, the fair maiden thought she was the one being mocked. 

“My duties?” She asked between fragile lips, although the answer had already resonated in her mind. Her heart dropped to her gut, leaving an empty void in her ribcage. 

Pulling his hand from between her sweaty thighs, the duke cupped her small chin and forced her face to meet his piercing gaze. 

“You’ll produce me an heir.”

Brief blackness filled her mind, the chill of his words near crippled her limbs. It felt as if a thousand little ants bit into her muscles, pricking her with stabbing pain. With the sharp snap of August’s fingers, the room spiralled into dead silence. A young maid and a sober guard quickly approached and bowed at their menacing lord. 

“Prepare her for our wedding night,” August commanded and leaned back in his seat, allowing the large guard to pull his shaking bride to stand. 

Marion stood on wobbly legs, the colour diminished from her face. The air was thick with death, and the tragedy was that she was still very much alive. Forced to follow the knight, she turned from August, but then his fingers snapped at her wrist and stopped her in place.

“Remember,” he called out, his voice lowering. “A nightmare or a dream.”

~~~~~~~~

The bedchamber was a dark paradise. Just like her husband, it was horrifyingly beautiful, spiced with danger and sensuality. Scarce candlelight emitted dim shapes in obsidian and warm golden hues, an endless battle of shadow and light cascaded over walls decorated by heavenly creatures. 

Wrought with horror, Marion’s eyes travelled from the paintings to the wedding bed, registering the soft white furs and virginal sheets that hid behind a black-veiled canopy.

Quietly anticipating the sacrifice of a virgin.

In the aphotic corners of her mind, troubling images began to surface. Her mind played with the provocative works of art depicting visions of women and beasts indulging in grotesquery. It made both her chest and thighs slick with chilling sweat. 

_‘Not for as long as I breathe,’_ she vowed, scratching her nails into the veil of the bedpost while the maid unlaced the back of her corset and stripped her bodice. Her eyes scanned the room for sharp objects when she suddenly felt the unmistakable kindle of hope. 

A gentle, shy wind caressed her bare skin, dragging her gaze over an open window. Outside, a thick blanket of stars sparkled silent, beautiful, and bright. They called her name, begging her to join them into the unchained night.

August’s words echoed in her mind, but she brushed them away abruptly as the mousy maid dressed her in a nightgown that rested loosely on her naked curves. 

The little thing bowed at her new duchess, blank-faced as she left the room without uttering a single word. Staring at the closed door, Marion wondered whether the servant girl was born mute or if August took her tongue. She didn’t dare to find out; she didn’t care for anything the Duke had to offer.

Adamant to escape, the young maiden hurried toward the gaping windows, fingers latching around the cold stone ledge. Silver moonlight cascaded over high tall blue spruce trees, shimmering on the dew that beaded their fresh needles. The midsummer night gazed peacefully, deriding her from the height in which the window stood.

“Beautiful view, ain’t it, Duchess?” 

The ground suddenly vanished beneath her feet and a pitched gasp cracked between her lips. Warm little snakes slithered on the back of her hands and held her plastered to the ledge.

“I don’t suppose you have wings.”

The smooth baritone nearly crippled her spine and as the heat of his body drew nearer, suffocating despair strangled her voice. The duke dwarfed her from behind, his hard body pressing and annexing her territory as his own. As she thought the paralysing fear could not be worse, something solid and pulsating pushed at the small of her back. 

She might have been a maiden, yet she wasn’t stranger to the tales of other women. Tears finally gave in, fat and glossy they rolled down her cheeks.

August gazed upon on the drops that dampened the stone on the window’s edge. Little sniffles came from the girl; it was natural for a maiden to cry on her wedding night, but this one was particularly obstinate. Even in her silent sobs, he could hear the crackling embers of the war she waged against him. 

If only she knew how much it fueled his desire.

His hands slid up her arms and latched onto her body, carefully turning her to face him. Dark, coarse hair that peppered his muscular chest peeked from the white shirt that laid half-open on his chest. Stark musk slipped through the orifices of her face. He was amber, pines, and a mossy tree bark still damp of rain.

Like the hide of a beast.

The arctic chill in his eyes darkened at the sight of the thick tears that trickled down her face. As careful as a predator stalking his prey, his knuckles reached to collect each tear, tenderly tracing her cheeks and letting her grief coat his fingers. 

Marion flinched at his touch but stared back at the icicles in his eyes. False affection filled his gaze, his lips pressed together into a silent coo while he tasted her sorrow, but she knew better than to trust an animal. Her hands lifted to his semi-exposed chest and shoved him away. 

Yet the duke hardly budged. A low chuckle rumbled at the back of his throat. Swiftly, his hands snapped at her wrist and pulled her against his broad chest. “Such an unyielding little virgin,” he growled, releasing one of her hands to reach his arm behind her back. “I will specifically enjoy turning you into my whore.”

Lewd fingers squeezed her behind, slipping lower to the sacred spot that pulsated alluring warmth on the soft pads of his fingers. It brought him another low chuckle and made his cock twitch with excitement.

An alarmed hiss escaped her mouth as his fingers threatened to press inside her. Rational thoughts went absent in her mind as she instinctively raised her hand and slapped him so hard his head turned to the side.

The sting tingled on his cheek and the scent of iron tugged at his nose as something warm and wet surfaced on his bottom lip. His head turned back ever so slowly, his mouth sucking the blood while he stared at his feisty girl. 

Marion’s chest still heaved, her eyes ablaze. 

It took every tendril of his self-control not to rip her apart. 

His hand snapped to her jaw, ignoring the frightened gasps of protests that crooked from her mouth. “I should bend you over the window and ravage your little whore cunt,” he chided and pushed her to stand in front of the bed. 

“Take off that gown! I want to see what my battle won me.” August commanded, glaring at her forebodingly. “I won’t ask twice,” he declared as he saw the hesitation in her doe-like stare. 

Forced to her knees, the maiden decided it’s better not to cross him again. Being reminded of August’s sinister nature, the reality of the situation finally resonated in her mind: She was his wife, his property. It was better to lie still and let him take what he wanted than to worsen her fate. 

With a shivering breath and quivering fingers, she began unlacing her nightgown, letting the soft garment slide down and pile at her feet. August’s eyes sparkled with vile appetite, feasting on her naked form languidly. The young maiden trembled so much, involuntary sobs left her lips and her hands rose to cover her breasts. 

‘ _Such purity,’_ he mused, the hunger urgent in his maw. The beast’s claws itched and his fangs flashed in a slanted grin, already fantasizing of leaving her marked and branded by his seal. 

His gaze lingered for a few more moments before he began discarding his clothes. With her heart racing at an alarming pace, she forced her face aside and swallowed awkwardly. But curiosity defied her; from faltering dark lashes, she peeked and her lips gaped with a daze.

In the dim light that flickered over his body, August was anything but the beast she yearned him to be. He was a god, dauntless and beautiful but treacherous as fire. Another shiver stabbed at her nape and shame suffocated her. A blaze crept up her thighs and the rounded curves of her breasts, making her grind her thighs together in dire confusion.

Arrogance puffed August’s chest, his fingers reached for his endowed cock and held it on display for his chaste maiden to see. Betrayed by her own carnal urges, his sweet, pure wife yearned for a thing she didn’t even understand. Her nipples peaked with wanton and the sugary essence of her body was so juicy and ripe, he could smell it coating her little cunt to welcome him in. 

It was a pity to take from her so soon what she guarded for years. He was far from done inspecting his valuable new possession, anyway.

“Now go sit on the bed and hold your legs spread open for me.” 

Marion faltered, her belly sunken inward. “What if I don’t want to?”

Tilting his head, August narrowed his eyes and offered her a cold, patronising smirk. “Do you think I care about what you want?”

Defeated, she silently backed herself to sit on the edge of the bed. Jaw clenched and eyes seeping hatred and fear, she held herself open for August’s penetrative gaze. Through the haze of tears, she watched the monster creep toward her as her mind attempted to escape. 

The gnawing of his claws into her inner thighs forced her back to reality. Drenched with fear, she kicked him slightly yet he held each leg in his solid grasp and kept her open. Inching closer, he inhaled her, releasing a peal of guttural jeers as the sweet scent maddened his primal senses. 

Shuddering cries echoed in the room as the duke began to kiss up the path to her heavenly realm, licking and suckling every fraction of her smooth skin. His bristles and tenderness left tingling, wet traces of joy. Behind shut eyes, shameful thoughts began to bloom as she questioned her sanity and the integrity of her soul once the heat of his mouth swung moans on her breath.

“Don’t!” she begged huskily, trying to squirm away from his vulgar kiss as the sensation started to overwhelm her. But August did not care for her battle, and his tongue rolled soft and languid at the crease of her delicious lips. 

Innocence tasted unearthly; every drop was an elixir of youth and the demon of greed that resided in him encouraged August to steal more from the whimpering girl. 

Entirely trapped by August’s erotic ministrations, juices mingled in a sensual dance. Pressing himself into her mound, the purposeful hums of his voice vibrated a foreign sensation that brought tiny sparks to crackle where August indecently kissed.

“Stop!” she cried out, startled by the odd sensation that began to scatter out through every nerve. Hot embers nestled in the pit of her lower belly as his bristles chafed and he continued to devour her lush Eden. Burning flares threatened to break through, her legs quivered wildly when August suddenly tore his lips away and left her panting with a disappointed frown.

“I forgot how sweet virgins are,” he taunted, wiping his moustache with the back of his palm and moving to kneel between her spread legs. The sight of her was a dream, her torso curved with beads of sheer sweat, her womanhood slick for more. If only she weren’t so obstinate, he would have made her come so hard she would have realised her new place.

But now as her climax nearly peaked, and her slit grew tighter, the hurt inside her will teach her a lesson.

August suddenly snapped his fingers around her throat and lifted her against him. Vampire-like lips claimed her into a passionate kiss, swallowing every yelp before he threw her flat into the dark lair that was their wedding bed.

Between opaque veils, the maiden crawled back but the beast soon moved to mount her. Talons etched at her thighs, forcing her legs apart. Coarse and bristled with hair, his solid torso pushed onto her soft belly. Fists and elbows slammed into his rock-hard chest in a ridiculously unmatched battle.

Her heart raced in exhilaration as August’s heavy weight grounded her down to the mattress. Hollowness beat at her chest, and the essence of her womanhood, desperation for something outlandish left her skin damp with anxiety. Despite her will, terror birthed a sickening excitement, an archaic substance that streamed in her blood, making her yearn to be taken by the beast.

“You’re mine!” 

As if under the same spell, August appeared utterly oblivious to the stubborn, pathetic attempts to deny him. Rough hands journeyed her body possessively; his lips followed, kissing, suckling and nuzzling her neck. Night after night, he waited to taste her, impatient to feel the supple flesh engulfing him, and unburden his love into the heavenly pit of her body. 

She was made for him, and now she too will be proven of how much their bodies were shaped to match.

A gasp died in her throat as she felt the pressure between her petals. The crown of his shaft alone felt too large to fit into her narrow opening. In her hasty, mindless fantasies she hoped her body would forbid him from desecrating her innocence. But as the bones of his hips came crashing into hers, the dream vanished into a chilling cry.

Sharp, crippling pain stung through her pelvis, rigid and thick as he tore through her tightened chastity. Shuddering, guttural roars swallowed her screams. Basking with euphoria, he delved into her untouched cavern, his girth stretching and claiming, moulding her to fit him. 

He gave no care to the unruly walls that warned him out, and never stopped to ease her pain.

The odd sensation of her body being filled by another deprived the air out of her lungs, August’s forceful onslaughts silenced the cries in her throat and the tears stood frozen. The man who murdered her people and forced her into marriage has now invaded her flesh over and over, and her body gave in with unforgivable ease.

The most beautiful chants fell from his mouth. Melodic deep groans, hauntingly beautiful. Being inside her was like the ballads of tragic love, both sweet and melancholic and oh so beautiful. 

“That’s it, my love,” his hot breath caressed her cheek, voice almost incoherent as he felt her sweet virginal garden squeeze around him like a treacherous thicket and lush stalking vines. Resistance and demand met at the seams. Defiant, her walls attempted to push him out though he was already sheathed deep inside her, with no intention to cease. 

“Can you feel yourself splitting open for me?” He grunted, and reached for her legs, hooking her knees beneath his sweaty fingers for smoother access. Whimpering achingly, she shoved at his chest yet he continued to fuck her, growling as her nails cut bloody crescents into his flesh.

Amidst the rhythm and the raw, gnawing pain, her thighs bucked involuntarily, spreading wider and drawing to take him further into her wetness. Carnal sins had poisoned her from within, wicked villainy enkindled the demanding coals. As she looked at the monster who rocked above her, lust weaved with disgust and shame. All she could think of was how beautiful August looked with his brow furrowed and his lips parted open.

These were no longer the wails of a virgin, but the wanton of a whore. 

Feeling the shift in her body, August sneered and leaned further to lick her salt-ridden cheek. “So wet and tight for me, taking me all the way inside. I knew there’s a whore in you.” 

Rage thick as tar poured through as his words registered in her mind. Without thinking twice, her hand rose with a flash and smacked his cheek aggressively. “I hate you!!” she screeched. 

The duke stilled for a moment, a deep grimace painted his face and his eyes pierced holes into her skull. Sliding his hands to her thighs, he abruptly rose to his knees and yanked her hips toward him. An unmistakable moan of gratefulness escaped her throat as he nearly slid out completely and then forced into her once more. The new position yielded an even better passage and August beamed at the image of his pleasing little wife. Lids heavy with desire, her hands gripped and kneaded tightly onto her breasts, and of course, the little patch of blood at the apex of her groin was certainly a sight to remember. 

“I have wanted you for so long,” he croaked breathlessly, one of his hands glided from her leg to her lower belly where he felt the shift of his thrusts. “I will put myself in there, pump you full with my seed, you will be mine forever.”

His words fluttered a horrible tremor in her slit, making her legs quake in his grasp. “No,” she shook in horror but her body accepted every plunge with even greater want, soaked, milking his cock and pleading for more. “No! Please, please don’t!”

“I will make a real woman out of you,” August rasped and repeatedly rutted into her with brutal force. Viscous fluids broke between them, symbolizing their decadent, carnal union. It was impossible to know where he ended and she began.

“You will learn to love this.” He groaned, feeling her tighten and convulse around him as her rapture drew near. “To love me.”

“No!!!”

Something within her unleashed, denied ecstasy forced itself, shaking through every nerve in her body with an overwhelming sensation. It felt as if August was inside her blood, burrowing into her breath and mind. In her core she never wanted him to stop, her cunt clutched onto his girth while the waves of fire continued to consume her from within. 

It felt as if they were one. 

“August!!!” 

With her silken walls yanking around his length, The duke lifted her spine from the mattress and slammed her hard against his pelvis, hitting a spot inside that made both of them scream. Loud groans and profanities thundered through the room as he swelled larger inside her. Still quivering around him, she felt the twitch of his cock and the surge of a hot, milky liquid that gushed into her womb. 

Gasping heavily, August continued pumping himself in, giving her every drop of his potent nectar and filling her to the brim until it overflowed and seeped from her violated hole.

Sweat dripped from his dark curls and gathered on the curve of her abdomen. Huffing, August watched the little flinch of her belly, now harbouring the promise of his legacy. A low velvet groan stalked onto his heavy breath, his shoulders slumping. He threw her legs down and dropped to lie beside her on the bed, content and exhausted. 

The bed shifted with his weight, making her jostle beside him. She turned her face aside and sniffled lightly, ashamed to stare at him and admit the delightful tingle that still simmered across her skin. August had none of it as now their marriage had been consummated. His hand smoothed down the valley of her body and cupped her battered little mound. Collecting the mixture of blood and the fluids of their union on his fingers, he wiped them on her breasts. 

“Now you are wholly mine, little duchess.” He spoke viciously and pressed his lips to kiss her temple. “And I suspect you enjoyed this.” He chuckled, sliding his finger down her belly where he gently stroked her with hope, “You should be thankful, for we will do this every night, even after you will be rounded with my heir.”

Marion wiped her face with the back of her hand and shot daggers into his eyes, silently stating her hatred toward her husband. It was unfortunate that August was still beautiful, unbelievably so. And in the sacred cavities of her mind, she shuddered at the idea of how much she wanted more of what he just gave her.

A deep laboured sigh released from her chest and her eyes floated to the stars outside the window, now appearing worn and dim. Her hopes, her dreams, her life belonged to him. Every night he would come to take more from what he owned and use her body as the instrument of his desires and his bloodline. Bleak mists seduced her to shut her eyes and she succumbed to the fatigue, thinking of the many nights she will spend with her husband: more pleasure, mingled with terror.

Her eyes opened as she felt August’s hand cupping her jaw and reaching to turn her glance at him. There was gentleness in his eyes, so foreign it made her gape. 

Deep in her heart, she wondered if she’d be insane to think he was right.

She might grow to want him.


End file.
